


Possessed

by marimoes



Category: One Piece
Genre: Birthday Sex, Canon Universe, Hand Jobs, M/M, Voodoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 11:16:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21014885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marimoes/pseuds/marimoes
Summary: “No. This isn’t a game, nor is it a very good present. Didn’t you learn to send things that the recipient wouldenjoy?” Law hisses and feels his body shudder when Hawkins laughs.“Oh, love.” Hawkins sighs, and his voice gets a little louder as if he’s holding the receiver up to his mouth, “You’ll enjoy this.”





	Possessed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [codedredalert](https://archiveofourown.org/users/codedredalert/gifts).

> They (I) said it couldn't be done, but I did it anyways. As always, this goes out to my good bud Red. Find her accompanying art after the fic!

The package Shachi brings Law is small. Meticulously wrapped in an odd shining paper, and Law instantly knows who the sender is. In his mind’s eye he conjures him: blonde, annoyed, pristine. How he ever ended up intertwined with Hawkins is still beyond his understanding.

“What is it, Captain?” Bepo asks curiously, peeking over Law’s shoulder, “Something cursed?”

Law shakes his head, but pauses, an unsure hum in his throat as he thinks. It’s not out of the realm of possibility that Hawkins could send him something cursed. After all, their last encounter didn’t exactly end all too well. 

“I’m sure it’s something harmless,” Law says, his dulled fingernails tugging at the parcel. It opens, rather unwillingly, to reveal a small wooden box. One that is ornate in its design, with gold and red lines swirling into a complex eye. It’s odd. 

It’s Hawkins.

Bepo tucks behind Law as he undoes the clasp. The click is gentle, bouncing against the bottom of the box, and the lid struggles to open. Almost as if it was made a little too small, sliding apart from the bottom. Inside, the box is velvet lined. 

A deep maroon color that screams extravagance, and Law tsks. Before his eyes he finds a small doll. It’s made of straw, as are all of Hawkins’ things, and it’s bound with a matching red string. Law reaches to pick it up and Bepo yells, causing him to jump and the doll falls to the ground. 

“Don’t do that!” Law snaps bending over to pick it up, “It’s just a stupid little doll. It’s not cursed.” 

Shachi lifts onto his toes to look over the box’s edge and lets a small laugh blow across his lips. Law raises an eyebrow at the sound and Shachi shrugs. 

“Doesn’t look _ not _ cursed. What if it’s one of those voodoo dolls he makes?” Shachi says and Bepo gasps, “What if that was Peng? You just dropped him on the floor, his back could be broken.” 

Bepo whines and Law closes the box quickly, letting the lid snap closed. 

“It wasn’t Peng. I would’ve heard him, we all would’ve.” Law says and tucks the box into his coat, “It’s just a dumb little doll that he’s sent me for whatever reason.” 

“Whatever reason, heh.” Shachi laughs and Law narrows his eyes, “You know what day it is tomorrow, don’t play dumb.”

Bepo moves around Law, eyes still transfixed on the box, but he nods. Law doesn’t want to give them confirmation on the fact, but he has a suspicion that Shachi is right. Somehow, Hawkins figured out his birthday, and for some reason, he’s decided to make Law aware. 

“I still don’t trust it, Captain.” Bepo whines reaching forward toward Law, but folds his hand in, taking it back, “Just be careful.”

“It’s straw. He’s somewhere far, I’m sure. But if it gives you ease, I’ll call him.” Law grumbles and turns to walk toward his quarters, hand waving nonchalantly in the air, “Shachi, please go get Peng to show Bepo he’s fine.” 

“Alright.” Shachi replies, breathes in and belts, “PENG YOU OK?” 

His words echo almost physically in the small space, leaving Bepo and Law to flinch. Before Law can open his mouth to scold, the hear a sharp banging. The sound being that of a door downstairs and the three stay quiet in wait. 

“YEAH?” Penguin’s voice echoes softly throughout the ship, and Bepo slides against the wall in relief, “NEED SUMMN'?” 

“NA!” Shachi yells back, smile smug on his face, “See, Bepo, he’s fine.” 

The door slams shut below once more, leaving the metallic rattle to ring out through the stairwell. There are days that Law regrets having a submarine. Today is one of those days. 

“Now that you’ve thoroughly given me a headache, I’ll be going.” Law sighs and Shachi gives a short, and mildly sarcastic, salute, “I’ll inform you of my cursed findings, though I suspect there are none.” 

* * *

Back in his room, Law handles the doll, gently inspecting it in the light. It’s not much, just a small bundle of straw, but he knows Hawkins better than that. He would be a fool to belittle his powers. 

“Call him.” Law says, absentmindedly bouncing his foot as he falls back onto his bed, “If he doesn’t answer, don’t relent.” 

The soft _ purupurupuru _ of the snail fills the empty space and Law waits. Neck tingling in anticipation for the line to eventually click. He knows that Hawkins has to be available, or should be, at least. 

But, he doesn’t answer. The line rings a total of four attempts before Law tells it to stop. Annoyed he pushes the doll back into the box and tucks it into his desk drawer before passing out onto his bed. 

_ What a dumb gift, if it was that. _ Law thinks drifting off to sleep, _ Maybe I can send it back in pieces. _

The night feels...long. Dreams that are endless running and mazes leave Law more tired when he wakes than when he went to sleep. They linger on him, weighing on his bones, and he wants nothing more than a full cup of coffee the moment he opens his eyes. 

A small thought tugs at him to check the box. So he does, and while it’s still there within his desk, the doll is gone. No trace of its existence made within the container. He knows none of the crew could have taken it, seeing as opening his door would’ve been more than enough to wake him. 

“Call him.” Law says, brows furrowed while his hands turn the box over and over to inspect it. 

The soft _ cacha _ of acceptance clicks and Law can feel Hawkin’s presence on the other end of the line. It makes him shudder, with annoyance or anticipation he’s not sure, but it makes his stomach uneasy. A sensation that makes him grit his teeth. 

“Yes?” Hawkins asks, the word languid, dripping with a knowledge Law doesn’t possess, “Need something, Trafalgar?” 

“What’s with the disappearing act?” Law asks and Hawkins gives a soft laugh as a reply, “Enough fucking around, Hawkins-ya. I know you sent that doll yesterday, but it’s gone this morning, what kind of weird bullshit are you pulling?” 

“You didn’t like my birthday present?” Hawkins sighs, “I made it just for you.” 

Law tosses the empty box onto the bed and lets Room extend from his hand, pushing it as far as he can across the ship. Ignoring the sounds of anxious alert from his crew, he searches. Tries to feel where on the vessel the doll could have gone, but finds nothing. 

“Then, _ where. Is. It. _ ” Law says, tone sharp enough that Hawkins clears his throat on the other end, “If you’ve endangered my crew with those _ stupid little ah- _”

Law doesn’t get to finish his threat. Instead, his arm is pulled, tight across his back, hand twisted. The feeling is different than that of Doflamingo’s strings, no, this feels more natural. That instead of being forced to move, he simply...wants to? 

“Hawkins, quit _ fucking _ with me. What is this?” Law spits and his arm drops to his side. 

“See, that’s the issue isn’t it? We’re in completely different places right now, and I _ can’t _ fuck with you...so, I made it easier.” Hawkins says and Law feels a sharp chill travel down his spine, like the tracing of Hawkin’s finger dragging along his skin. Just like the last time they—no.

“No. This isn’t a game, nor is it a very good present. Didn’t you learn to send things that the recipient would _enjoy_?” Law hisses and feels his body shudder when Hawkins laughs. 

“Oh, love.” Hawkins sighs, and his voice gets a little louder as if he’s holding the receiver up to his mouth, “_ You’ll enjoy this _.” 

The call ends, leaving the snail to close its eyes with a soft _ cacha _ and Law very nearly throws it across the room. He doesn’t, though. Instead, he places it onto the desk, picks up the small glass that sits next to it, and tosses _ that _ across the room. A soft knock raps on Law’s door, and as he starts to move toward it, he finds that he can’t. 

His feet are glued where he stands, and before he can think, he’s already dialing Hawkins again. 

“Ye-”

“Undo it. Now.” Law demands, not even letting Hawkins get a full word out, “I don’t know what kind of insane voodoo you’ve decided to curse me with, but release it.” 

Hawkins tuts, a soft one, held with amusement that isn’t well hidden. Law feels a soft pulling of his shoulders, and his feet stutter backwards a step. He leans, nearly falling back over the edge of the bed, and it feels as if someone was in front of him. 

Hands pressing into his chest pushing him backwards, and it takes everything in Law to fight the sensation. Again, the knocking at the door comes. A soft, ‘Captain?’, is said behind it, and Law huffs. He can’t speak, can’t move, can’t conjure anything but a string of curse words in his head. 

“Ah, I suppose I should let you get that, no?” Hawkins purrs and Law feels his body return to his control. The power given all at once like a marionette that’s been dropped, strings loose and limbs flung, Law falls backwards. “So, your bed was there. Good to know.”

Law clicks the line once more and nearly yells. The anger stirring in his stomach like a swarm of bees and he doesn’t dare let them out. Instead, he breathes, a shaky deep breath, and sighs. 

“Yes?” Law says, and the door opens slowly. He doesn’t need to look up to know that Ikkaku is at the door. She’s the only one who knocks like that, polite, nearly charming. 

“You alright? I thought I heard something break in here.” She says, hands curled around the edge of the door, “Bepo told us you were cursed now, so I thought I would check.” 

Law groans, turning over to press his face into the bed. Ikkaku nods, a giggle light on her lips, and leaves, shutting the door behind her. Law thinks he hears her say that she’ll tell everyone he isn’t cursed. Maybe he imagines it, maybe he dreams it, he isn’t sure. 

He’s asleep again before he can decide. 

Jolting awake, he checks the clock on his desk, and sighs. It’s only been an hour, luckily, but really it wouldn’t matter if he did sleep all day. No one would bother him if he did, but there are things he needs to do before they arrive on the next island. 

Things like working with Bepo on the charts, creating a supply list with Penguin, and giving Shachi the same speech that he always does. These are all things he needs to do...after coffee. 

He makes his way down to the kitchen on auto-pilot and prays that there is still some left in the pot. As his luck, or rather Ikkaku’s planning, would have it, there is a fresh pot waiting. Steaming with the grounds still warm in the press. 

“Captain!” Bepo says, wrapping his arms around Law’s waist, burying his head into Law’s back, “You’re alive! You’re not cursed!” 

Law wants to push Bepo off of him, but doesn’t. He allows the polar bear mink to hang on him as he fixes his coffee. Where any other crew member would get a swift kick in the leg for hanging on to Law, everyone knows Bepo is different. He’s known Law the longest, held him in regard the longest, and gets the advantages that come with it. 

Advantages like rubbing his face against Law’s, even when he’s trying to drink. 

“I’m not cursed, Bepo. Hawkins was just being a dick, nothing out of the ordinary.” Law mutters against the rim of his cup and Bepo holds him tighter, “Let me go, Bepo.” 

A tingle dances on Law’s neck, and as he goes to swat Bepo away, he finds the bear is no longer there. _ Must have been a hair or something. _ Law thinks and goes back to nursing his coffee. 

Throughout the day it continues happening; a tingle here, a whisper there, all with no explanation behind it other than what Law chalks up to lack of sleep. It’s annoying at best, but he figures it will go away once he gets the chance to pass out again. Hopefully with a night that isn’t so restless. 

Entering his quarters that night, Law sighs, kicking off his shoes at the door. His hands start to pull on his shirt, but his arms fight against him, tremoring to stay at his sides. Awake in an instant, he realizes, and curses. 

“Goddamnit, Hawkins-ya. Let me go to sleep for once.” Law says, keeping his voice low so that his crew doesn’t hear him, “I told you to get rid of that shit.” 

The words float into the open, empty air, and Law knows they can’t reach Hawkins’ ears. Doesn’t stop him from muttering a few more choice expletives under his breath while still struggling against the magic’s hold. It’s holding him still, and yet, Law can feel movement within himself, or rather, on himself. 

A slow drag of a chill goes up his neck, dancing lightly around the curve of his collar before stopping beneath his chin. It lifts against his will, as if he’s being pulled to meet someone’s eye line that isn’t there. His heart is in his throat, pulsing heavily, and he wants to curse. 

_ Oh, love. Why would I get rid of this? _

The words float into Law’s mind, spoken so clearly that he almost turns around to look behind him. But he doesn’t, because he can’t. No, all he can do is stand, head held up with discomfort itching on his skin. 

His body again starts to move, and he can do nothing to stop it. 

Back towards his bed, Law is pushed, a step at a time. As he walks, the dragging sensation on his neck travels elsewhere; his shoulders, to his chest, to the edge of his jeans. There, it lingers, tracing the hem without ever moving further, and Law feels himself twitch to life. 

“What do you want from me? I know last time was difficult but-a-ah-” Law whispers furiously at first, before all the air is stolen from his lungs the second the sensation brushes up his length. It moves slow, torturously so, wrapping gently around his tip. “H-hawkins-ya.”

_ Are you telling me you don’t want this? _

The sensation disappears in an instant and Law gasps out. Clenching the sheets into his hands, he stares at the ceiling, teeth gritted. It’s odd, mind blowingly so, but it’s hotter than he thought it would be, left evident by the tightness in his jeans. 

Law groans, irritated and worked up, and his eyes flit to his door. If the others heard him, for even a second, he would kill Hawkins with his bare hands. A low hum again enters his mind, and he realizes Hawkins desires an answer. 

“I-” Law starts to say, and could curse he’s so irritated by the loss of control, “I want it.” 

_ Good. I wanted to give you your real present. _

Again, the sensation runs across Law’s body, and his heart flutters. Something feels off, though, and he can’t place it. He would think it’s being stroked via a form of magic, but no, it’s something else that is itching in his mind. 

Hawkins again wrapping around his shaft, it hits him: he’s clothed. A debate ensues in his mind. Clothes on or off? Jeans opened? Does he want to watch himself be manipulated? The thought burns at him, consuming his focus, until a quick jolt of pain snaps him out of it. 

_ What could you possibly be preoccupied with when I’m doing this? Do you not want this? Don’t lie for my sake, Trafalgar. _

“I,” Law starts, but quickly stops realizing he doesn’t have the words, “Should I undress?” 

Hawkins hums, and the sensation on Law is that of if Hawkins was thoughtfully stroking him. Base to tip, his slender fingers pull at him, over and over. It leaves Law buzzing, nearly squirming under the feeling, and he realizes just how badly he wants more. 

_ Whatever makes you most comfortable, I suppose. I can’t see you, you know. Tragic, really, I love the faces you make. _

“Fuck a-ah” Law bites out as Hawkins gives him a sharp tug, thumb sweeping across the slit, “I hate this.” 

_ I know, that’s why I love it. _

Hawkins’ tone is a near purr and again he goes back to his gentle caresses, but now they’re more focused, and Law can nearly see him. The sight not new to his mind, he pictures him between his legs, one hand wrapped around him while the other stays on his thigh for support. Body a milky white next to his own, with hair draped like a waterfall against his shoulder. 

Hawkins is a lot of things, annoying mostly, but goddamn; he’s gorgeous. 

He’d never tell him, god, he’d rather die than admit that, and for a moment he’s terrified that through his voodoo that Hawkins can read his thoughts. _ Well, only one way to test it, _ Law thinks, _ I wish I could fuck you instead of this magic bullshit. _

_ I wish you could as well. _

“Goddamnit!” Law yells and a low chuckle comes into his mind, “Why didn’t you tell me I could just think things to you? Instead of talking out loud like someone deranged?” 

_ Oh, well, I’m not _ just _ gorgeous you know, I’d like to think I’m clever also. Now, will you shut the fuck up? _

Law opens his mouth to argue, but it quickly shuts to hold in a moan. Tugging at his jeans, he undoes the button and zipper, freeing himself. His instinct to wrap his own hand around himself is strong, but he resists, relenting instead to tucking his hands behind his head. A decision Hawkins apparently enjoys, given the languid stroke of his underneath. 

Hawkins continues his ministrations, each one driving Law closer to his edge. His free hand dragging places it normally can’t like this: his collar, along his spine, down his chest. Each line drawing fire into Law’s skin, making it that much harder to hold on. 

As Law starts to huff, that quiet desperate plea for release, Hawkins quickens. 

_ God, love. _Hawkins purrs, and nearly sounds out of breath himself. Law groans at the name. How formal it is, truly irks him, but also makes him stir each time it’s said. 

Law comes, up onto the small space of his stomach where his shirt doesn’t quite reach, and for that he’s grateful. The last thing he needs is stains on his clothes for the crew to pester him about. 

The sensation finishes it’s last motion before disappearing, and Law sighs. Satisfied. Annoyed. _ Bastard. Where the hell are you? I can’t deal with this, I have to t- _

_ A summer island. Not too far from where you are, I imagine. I can send details in the morning, if you’d like. _

Law opens his eyes and unclenches his hands. _ Close? _ Using Room, he quickly shambles a towel to his hand, and gently cleans himself off. _ Send them. _ A sigh floats in his mind, and again, Law can see Hawkins clear as day. That knowing smirk, wrapped up with sharp eyes...the thought nearly gets Law hard again. 

_ Happy Birthday, you filthy man. _ Hawkins says, and in an instant Law can tell the magic is gone. Broken without argument, leaving him lying on his bed alone, still to gross for comfort. 

“Thanks,” Law sighs, swinging his legs over the side to stand. A small smile tugs at his lips, and he looks out the port hole in his room gazing into the darkness, “Bastard.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: @noswordstyle  
Twitter: @__moes__


End file.
